


don't hold your breath underwater

by unfinishedidea



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Canadian Shack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfinishedidea/pseuds/unfinishedidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hope this works, for all our sakes,” Pooch says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't hold your breath underwater

“Uh, Clay, it’s really starting to come down out here—this lead seems to be deader than disco, and if you don’t get Cougar and I out soon, we’re going to be stuck until the storm dies down. Over.”

“No can do, Jensen, I trust our source, and I need you to do a sweep and secure the storage facility.” Well, Clay trusts Aisha to shoot them all if Jensen and Cougar don’t sort through their— _issues_ —and as team leader, he needs to look out for the well-being of his unit, for all that they’re dead to the military. And with Aisha just a tiny bit too trigger-happy recently and Pooch twitching every time Jensen and Cougar are in a fifty-foot radius of each other, Clay decides to improvise.

“Goddamnit, Clay, I know what you’re trying to do,” Jensen hisses over the radio, “And it’s not going to work. Requesting extraction before conditions worsen—”

“Sorry Jensen, you’re cutting out,” Clay lies, while Pooch stifles a laugh in the background. Aisha grins at Clay while she cleans her guns, pleased.

Jensen, though, is clearly not buying it.

“I know you can hear me, Clay!”

“Did not receive last transmission, we’ll come and get you once the storm has passed. Over and out.”

“You’re a goddamn lying—” Clay turns down the volume on the radio and smirks at Pooch and Aisha.

“I hope this works, for all our sakes,” Pooch says.

* * *

“—son of a bitch. Clay? Clay? _Motherfucking_ —Max’s secret storage facility, _my ass_.”

Jensen looks around the “storage facility” and sees Cougar hunched over, looking through all the cabinets—he’s being thorough, but Jensen knows it’s pointless. Franklin “I’m a meddling asshat” Clay deliberately stranded them in this shack during a goddamn _blizzard_ on an island in the middle of fucking _Canada_. He’s totally going to send Aisha those photos of Clay he has from the strip poker game on Okinawa, see how much he likes interfering _then_.

Jensen joins Cougar in searching the shack for lack of anything better to do, cursing under his breath. Cougar tilts his head at him questioningly and Jensen sighs and says, “We should finish looking through this shithole and then settle in for the night. Clay’s being a stubborn _prick_ and won’t get us until this storm blows over.”

They finish their sweep depressingly quickly, and get ready to bunk down, even though it’s still early. He can feel the back of his neck prickling as he tosses an unzipped sleeping bag over the single bare mattress ( _subtle, Clay, real subtle_ ) and pointedly does not look at Cougar as he strips down as much as he can stand to in the freezing air. He gets under the sleeping bag, curled into himself for warmth, and a moment later Cougar joins him.

They’re as far away from each other as the mattress and sleeping bag will allow, which is to say, not very much, and all of a sudden, it hits him, all of the stress from the Max situation and the tension of being cooped up here with Cougar, and he’s woozy with exhaustion. He thankfully passes out before he can start moping about Cougar.

* * *

The first thing Jensen thinks when he regains consciousness is that it is blessedly warm, and he buries his nose further into the heat before he wakes up a fraction more and realizes exactly where that heat is coming from.

His heart leaps into his throat and he says, “Oh, fuck,” under his breath. His arm is curved possessively around Cougar and he’s _nuzzling Cougar’s neck_ and his half-hard dick is unhelpfully nudged against the small of Cougar’s back. He swallows and realizes that Cougar is lying very, very still and is most definitely, tragically, awake.

Jensen clears his throat and says hoarsely, still fighting through the fog of sleep, “I realize that this is extremely awkward, but to be fair, it’s like -40° out and not much warmer in here, so, conserving body heat, that’s good, right, and, um, I’m sure we can both be adults about this—please don’t kill me—and well, you shouldn’t hold it against me about the, well, you know, since you’re a guy too, and I’m just going to go jump in a snowdrift and die of embarrassment.”

He really should move. Right now. But as Jensen tries to disentangle from Cougar, Cougar grabs his wrist, firmly, but not painfully, and he freezes. Cougar turns to face him, and says something about _tontos_ under his breath, which Jensen would take offense to if Cougar didn’t suddenly lean in and kiss him. It’s surprisingly gentle, with a hint of teeth, and Jensen’s brain is so totally not functioning enough for this right now.

 _Uh_ , Jensen thinks. “Uh,” he says into Cougar’s mouth. Cougar moves back and sighs, looking at him steadily.

“But you—you never said anything,” Jensen says.

Cougar raises his eyebrows. Jensen would almost definitely call the look “exasperated fondness”, with emphasis on the exasperated. “You weren’t paying attention,” is all Cougar says, before grabbing the back of Jensen’s neck and leaning in again. He is clearly done with talking, and Jensen is so on board with that, Jensen’s brain is finally online and entirely with the program. Cougar moves so quickly that it takes him a second to realize that Cougar’s pinning him against the mattress, and Jensen groans and says, “Yes, come on, _please_ —”

Cougar nudges him onto his side and pushes his undershirt up; Jensen catches up with him a minute later and waves him off, shrugging out of his boxers and shirt as Cougar does the same, and then Cougar climbs on top of him again and it’s all just _skin_ , Jensen doesn’t even know where to start—a lot of the time he’s off in his own world, synapses firing a million miles per second, but he is so very aware of Cougar pressed against him and he has never been more _here_ , in his own body.

Cougar twists so that Jensen’s on top, and his hands scratch down Jensen’s back which sends a shock straight to his dick, makes him _burn_ , christ, and then one of Cougar’s fingers dips into the curve of his ass and Jensen breaks off the kiss with a moan and says breathlessly, “I really, _really_ want for that to happen, but we don’t have anything—though, I guess we could use—”

“Stop thinking,” Cougar murmurs, and reaches down to grab both of them with his hand, _fuck_. Cougar is quiet, so quiet, but when Jensen summons enough brain cells to help and palms the head of Cougar’s dick, Cougar gasps against his neck and it shoots a sharp rush of pleasure through him, and he’s so done, he’s coming over their hands and their chests and panting through the intensity of it, and Jensen falls back to earth in time to feel Cougar biting down on his shoulder and shaking through his own release.

Jensen has enough presence of mind to tip off to the side, and dozes off for minutes or days, he can’t really tell, coming back to awareness when he feels Cougar shifting next to him.

“The storm’s over,” Cougar says, pressing kisses into the hollow above his collarbone, and Jensen is feeling blissed out and buzzed and overwhelmingly content. Canada is awesome.

“I’d like to avoid Clay’s gloating for just a little longer,” Jensen mumbles.

Cougar _hmms_ into his skin and bites down, and, oh, _yeah_ , Clay can definitely wait.


End file.
